


rot

by howlish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, angst w some dicks thrown in, dimitri can have little a bottom sylvain as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlish/pseuds/howlish
Summary: Dimitri’s never seen Sylvain cry.A soft dimivain drabble, set post-game but spoiler free.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 176





	rot

There was something off about Sylvain. It was not new, in fact Dimitri suspected it had been off for most of Sylvain’s life. He had glimpsed it a handful of times as their paths ran alongside one another, he thought, but could never quite grasp what it was. Not until now.

They had found common ground in their emotions. Dimitri was a deeply emotional man, and Sylvain could see the most treacherous depths of that fervor, that sorrow, and never falter. He _understood_ , and he stated it with such quiet, intimate confidence that Dimitri couldn’t dare doubt him. They confessed some of their ugliest sins to each other, a thick black sludge slipping from their lips in the dark of the night like the sweet words of a lover-- and he supposed they were, at that. Their confessions were knives pointed at their own hearts, willingly given, and Dimitri held them more dearly than he had thought rotten emotions could be held.

They _loved_ each other for their emotions, deep and painful and pure, he had lost count of how many times Sylvain’s lips against his skin had promised compassion not _in spite_ of Dimitri’s rot, but _because_ of it. It was a concept Dimitri wouldn’t have understood, if he hadn’t seen the shadow in Sylvain’s eyes when he was truly furious, fiery and unpleasant and like looking in a mirror.

But for as many times as Sylvain had coaxed Dimitri’s true feelings out, as many times as he had held his own king, wracked in the dead of night with miserable sobs… Dimitri had never seen Sylvain cry.

“Sylvain.” The name was muffled by how Dimitri said it against his neck, caught between a sigh and the teeth Sylvain _so loved_ at his throat. It was the wrong time for it, Sylvain in his lap, stretched around his cock in a rare moment of vulnerability, eyes glazed over in a pleasure he didn’t think he was allowed, but perhaps it was their rot that had to ruin it when Dimitri opened his mouth again. “Will you cry for me?”

Sylvain’s slow, comfortable riding came to a halt, and after a pause, he let out a quiet laugh. It was fake. That Dimitri could tell it was fake meant Sylvain was truly put off. “Sorry, I’m not too good at that one. We’ll find something else you like, okay?” The hand he put to Dimitri’s face was soft, apologetic-- fake. Avoidant. Again, again, he could pull everything from Dimitri, but the vault of his heart remained firmly locked. Sylvain started to move again, a sudden push that buried Dimitri to the hilt and earned a gasp from both of them.

He let the subject fall away, but it plagued Dimitri still.

For every moment Dimitri was laid bare, every dark secret uncovered, every weakness and pain he showed, Sylvain would only give him the ugliest parts of himself in return. He was the villain, the darkest pieces of man given life, he had hurt people just to see them hurt, and Dimitri could only love him because they were equal parts guilty. It was a picture Sylvain painted lovingly in the dead of night, but Dimitri was beginning to see it as just that: a picture.

“Sylvain. I want you to cry for me.” His next attempt was fully clothed, and mildly wine-drunk after a heavy dinner. The candles were burning low, and the drinks were half-finished. The sort of environment that could squeeze melancholy from the both of them easily enough. “Are you afraid to show your weaknesses to me? Are you… are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

“ _No._ ” Sylvain’s answer was for once instant, assuring, but further elaboration was not so forthcoming. There was a long stretch of silence, perhaps he hoped Dimitri would move on while he deliberated, but no such luck. “...like I said, I’m no good at it. It’s.. I can’t remember the last time I really…” He let out a frustrated sigh, but it was more progress than before, he was _trying_. “I learned a long time ago that crying because I’m hurt, or upset, it doesn’t _do_ anything. It doesn’t fix anything. It just gave him…”

His tongue was heavy as he trailed off, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“It just gives whoever did the hurting more power.”

Dimitri pulled him close, and he could feel Sylvain’s body resisting, almost pulling away on instinct, before accepting the hug stiffly. “Have I hurt you?”

“Of course not--” he answered quickly, tried to pull back, but Dimitri’s hold was firm.

“Do you think I will?”

“Dimitri, _I trust you_ , it’s not..”

“Then please,” his voice was quiet, forcing Sylvain to hang on every word, “when you can,” his lips met Sylvain’s ear in the softest kiss, “when you can. Cry for me.”


End file.
